Won't you play with me?
by Tribble Master
Summary: A witch. A curse. And Sam's slowly starting to remember how much fun it is to be completely immature. Set mid season six, no spoilers. Set after Sam gets that thing back. Rating for language


For Platinum Rose Lady, as per her challenge. (Because apparently I need to stop writing excessive amounts of horror. ) She also beta'd.  
>Disclaimer: Le sigh.<br>Warning: Mild season six spoiler about Sam and his missing piece. Set after it's back. You know that kind of important thing that wasn't really that important.  
>Everyone that reviews improves the odds of Sam getting hugs from Castiel. And then they get a Castiel Hug too.<p>

**Won't You Play With Me?**

Sam woke up and immediately grabbed his head. Two weeks since he'd gotten his soul back and the headaches still wouldn't quit. His side hurt too, and he wondered if he had new stitches. He groaned, and murmured something incoherent. Dean looked over from the table. He set down the gun he'd been over polishing and the dirty rag that was over used. "Feeling any better?"

Sam tried to sit up, but feel back into the pillows. "Nah-uh."

Dean sighed. "I hate this. I hate all these goddamn waste of time hunts for that bitch. These stupid hunts are gonna get us killed for nothing." He got up and grabbed a towel, walking over to the sink.

Sam wiped a hand over his face, trying to sweep away the exhaustion that was chilling him to the core. "I don't even remember what we were hunting."

Dean came back to his bedside with a wet towel. "We were looking for a wendigo. We found a witch."

"Is that why I feel like such crap?"

"No, that's just because you're so tall you keep hitting your head on the ceiling."

Sam just glared.

"That and she hexed you. I think."

"What?" Sam tried to sit up again, but a sharp pain brought him back down. The headaches were back, but they felt different. It was almost like something was trying to push his emotions to the surface.

"Yeah, jury's still out on that one." Dean eyed his brother suspiciously.

"Is she dead?" Sam moaned. "Please tell me we at least killed her."

Dean let a deep sigh and looked down at his feet. "See, uh, that's the thing… I've been waiting for you to wake up. I kind of thought you losing a fight to a tree was more important."

Sam bit his tongue and forced himself up right. He leaned against the headboard. Dean watched him shake. "When can we leave?" he whined.

"Well, I'm gonna leave as soon as I know you're stable."

Sam laughed. "Stable?" He felt the tide turning his mind as something…poped.

Dean eyed Sam. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blah blah blah." Sam rolled his eyes. Then he focused on the kitchen table, sights narrowing on the tableware. "I'm thirsty."

"Uh, ok." Dean stood up and got Sam a glass of water.

Sam took it gratefully, drinking half it almost instantly. He pulled it from his lips and then looked down in the water. He eyed it suspiciously, and on an afterthought threw it into in Dean's perplexed face.

Dean sputtered and flailed his arms. Sam laughed then paused. He clutched at the covers, and tightened his fist. "Dean," he said between gritted teeth.

Dean didn't respond, he just locked eyes with Sam and glared. Cold green eyes that he'd been practicing since he was little. Sam's eyes widened a little in fright. "What if that's it."

"You think this is a curse? That you lose maturity?"

"No!" Sam gasped. "That's why dad liked you! Because you're easy to make fun of." Sam snapped triumphantly. "And you're a blonde. Everybody likes dumb blonde jokes."

Dean stood up and started shoving things into his duffle. "Okay, Sam, fine. I'm gonna go kill this witch-"

"Just don't shoot Bambi!" Sam threw in.

Dean rolled his eyes. "He's been through enough already." Sam clarified.

"Anyway, I'll be back soon and this…" Dean waved his hands in Sam's general direction. "Will be gone."

Sam frowned. "Can I have breakfast first?" He swung his legs over the bed and stood up wobbling like a new born giraffe. All things considered, he was probably part giraffe. Sam looked down at himself. He let out a small choked sob. "You put me in the brown hoodie?" Sam tugged at it. "You put me in _the _brown hoodie? The one when you think I'm angst ridden and about to DIE?"

Dean took two steps back. "It's not like that Sam, it's just that we haven't done laundry…"

"Oh blame the victim. Go get me McDonalds. Now." Sam stalked off, more like made a wide gait, towards the bathroom. As soon as he shut the door, Dean heard a crash. Ignoring the noise, Dean walked out the door. It wasn't like Sam would get in trouble while Dean was gone. Dean knew it was optimistic, but they'd been cursed before. At least Sam wasn't a ferret again. This couldn't worse, he lied to himself.

When Dean returned half an hour later, Sam had somehow managed to find crayons. And Elmer's glue. For a moment, Dean ignored the glue in Sam's hair and just stared at the wall. Sam had used his height well. The ceiling was decorated expertly, well at least half was. And that was the part that Sam had not touched. Sam held out a crayon to his brother, "Do you like it?"

"Um, yeah." Dean held up the McDonald's bag like a peace offering. "I brought you food!"

"Yeah!" Sam clapped his hands together. His hair stuck out at random angles. Dean wondered if he should tie Sam down or just back away quietly and hope to go unnoticed.

"Dean," Sam said with a mouth full of food, "do you have any plastic dinosaurs?"

"No." Dean picked up a fry and savored it. He sipped on his coke and looked up at Sam. Oh dear lord, not those eyes. Not _those _eyes. Sam had gone wide eyed and his lip was wobbling. He sniffled, as Dean watched helplessly. There was already a countdown going on in his head. He knew a Sam-trum in progress when he saw one.

3…2…Dean took a deep breath as Sam started to wail. The tallish Winchester pounded his fists on the table and knocked all the fries to the floor. He flailed and used his monstrous size to inflict the most damage on anything in range. Dean grimaced, he hadn't remember it like this when Sam was little. But little was the key word.

"Sam, Sam, calm down." Dean tried weakly to calm his brother. "It's just a curse, Sam. C'mon…"

"Go 'way." Sam said turning away from him.

Dean sighed, grabbed his coat and walked out the door. This time, he didn't bother to tell himself things would be ok. He knew the room would be decimated when he returned.

Sam watched the door slam. He wiped his eyes and waited for Dean to turn around. "I didn't really mean it," he said quietly to himself as the tears reappeared. His eyes fell on a crayon and his heart skipped a beat. He clapped his hands together. "I'll make him something even better than before!"

Castiel appeared. "Samuel, I need your help."

"Don't wanna." Sam shrugged as he found Dean's shirts and rummaged for a pair of scissors.

"You owe me."

Sam pouted and turned his dewy eyes on Castiel. "I..I…" Castiel couldn't tear his eyes away. "I just need help checking out a lead." But as Castiel continued to stare into Sam's eyes he began to forget what it was he had come for.

"But then who will cut up these shirts?" Sam said sullenly. "They need snowflakes."

Castiel tilted his head quizzically. "Something is not right…" He fluttered away to find Dean. After a moment he returned, "I think this might help while I'm gone." He set down bouncy ball and flew away.

Sam's eyes widened in delight.

When Dean returned, covered in leaves and mud, six hours later he nearly sobbed in frustration. Every fragile piece of furniture was damaged or crushed. Sam sat in the middle of the mess, surrounded by cut up shirts and glitter, looking very much confused.

"Um, Dean," Sam said quietly. "My stomach doesn't feel right. I think I ate paste." He frowned and looked around. "Did I do this?"

Dean slumped against the door. "Yes. Castiel came and helped me kill the bitch that did this. Is that my shirt?"

Sam held it up and grimaced. "Yeah… Sorry."

Dean shrugged, too tired to be properly angry. "It's okay. You know, it was actually a little bit nice to see you as my little brother for once. Even if you were a goof."

Sam smiled, just a small smile. But still, even in these dark times it was nice to see the old Sam coming through.

The end


End file.
